The Mystic Warrior
by elerielina
Summary: Life on Earth hangs by a thread when The Rebellion comes to our world at the time of awakening of an ancient and dangerous power. His mission: To prevent such a threat, contained in the body of a mortal, from falling into the unscrupulous hands of the rebels.


_In the Beginning, there was the Sea of Chaos_

 _The vastness of the ocean of stars and skies filled with dancing and luminous curtains in harmony with the thunderous and refulgent symphony of the creation of millions of worlds and stars; collapsing on itself, being born and spreading the demolishing force of entire galaxies; fiery worlds of molten rock and red-hot continents; stars torn apart and empty blackness._

 _Over and over again._

 _And then It appeared appears._

 _Motionless, but not dead._

 _Dark and golden._

 _What it Is, Was and Will be._

 _Shinning like gold upon the Sea of Chaos._

 _With one hand, it stirred the ocean of galaxies; and with the other, it shook the contrasting space with auroras of thousands of colors; and then, It spoke._

 _"_ _From here, I will split the Universe into four pieces, and from each part, there will be duality,_

 _Light and Darkness coexist because I Am._

 _Heaven and Earth are my body,_

 _Night and day; The Sun, the Moon and the Stars, the proof of my existence."_

 _And it sang; and from that liturgy, came the souls of the living and the lament of the dead._

 _They mixed with the Golden Chaos between its hands and the sound erupted._

 _And it whispered to every pulse that slipped from its fingers:_

 _"_ _Be; because that is my will._

 _Exist; because you were born from my thoughts._

 _Live and die; because my caprice will be your nightmares."_

 _And then, all came into being._

 _First,_ _ **The Gods**_ _.  
_

 _A Lord of Light of Divine Fire,_ _ **Ceiphied**_ _._

 _He exhaled; and his four servants descended to The Wasteland, covering the four corners of The World._

 _The indomitable and rebellious Air that rocks the clouds,_ _ **Valwin**_ _,_

 _The water that runs off and cracks in the stones,_ _ **Ragradia**_ _,_

 _The blazing Fire, burning and pure,_ _ **Vrabazard**_ _._

 _The Earth that sits and rises, stoic and patient,_ _ **Rangort**_ _._

 _And then, at least,_ _ **The Monsters**_ _._

 _A Dark Lord with Ruby Eyes,_ _ **Shabranigdo**_

 _He slashed The World into five pieces, and left a part of himself with his blood in each one,_

 _In the Darkness where the dead suffer,_ _ **Phibrizo**_ _, the Hellmaster._

 _In the Abyss of the Demons Sea,_ _ **Dolphin**_ _, Lady of the Depths._

 _In the thundering blackened sky,_ _ **Gaav**_ _, The Chaos Dragon._

 _From his anger and contempt,_ _ **Dynast**_ _, Supreme King and Lord of War._

 _And from their grotesque appearance, the wild creatures and their only tamer,_ _ **Zelas**_ _, the Beast Master, were born._

 _The World split in two before the clash of these ominous forces,_

 _Life slipped between the two sides of the burning shell of The World before to the devastating and bellicose fury; and with a thunder, all fell silent._

 _A star fell with the chord of a lyre, and in its tail, a bird broke through, bursting into The Darkness, and sang._

 _"Eight thousand years have to pass,_

 _eight thousand laps the Sun has to give,_

 _Once again, I have to be born,_

 _The Seal has to be broken,_

 _The Symbol must appear,_

 _Chaos will burst again,_

 _The Forbidden Magic must be used,_

 _The Door will open,_

 _The Stones will shine announcing the appearance of the_ _ **Mystic Light**_ _."_

The dull sound of the heavy book that was closed echoed throughout the room. The delicate female hands, which traced each of their prayers, now rested in tense calm on the black leather of live gold that covered the valuable source of information, as if protecting it. She looked up; her eyes, lit like molten gold, could tear flesh just by looking at them.

She observed her young interlocutor, who was standing a few meters away; motionless, attentive with a vivid and piercing look. Each word that she said thundered with the force of a incoming storm in the chamber of stone and colored stained glass, where the light of sunset began to sneak with fear.

The gold and silver jewels that adorned her elegant wrists, chimed uncomfortably as she approached a liquor cabinet. She poured only a few measures of a dark brandy in a glass, caught between her thin fingers with silver nails; They looked like platinum or precious metal, they shone in time with their circular movements with which the liquid rocked.

She turned with a stern face, looking at the only person who accompanied her, leaning lightly against the cabinet. The white of the dress of silk and chiffon that she dressed, it blended with the colors of the surrounding stained glass; only the gold belt that wrapped around her waist gave brief flashes. Her curly golden short hair accompanied each golden ornament she wore, brushing her bare shoulders of tanned skin.

— This is the _Requiem of the First Soul_. There are many legends about this, and it is baptized with many names, forms and origins. The legends says that it is the first living soul that walked this world after The War; Other stories say, that it is a magical artifact that came from the stars with unimaginable powers, —she stopped, slowly walking back to where her servant was— but for the Monsters and the Gods, it is only known by a name: _The Mystic Light_ —She concluded, stopping again in front of the table where the book rested, looking at her servant without blinking. The sharp purple eyes of the one who remained silent did not let a second of looking at her with deep attention, not letting a word pass. — It is a knowledge lost many millennia ago, a sacred knowledge of the origins of this World, and I could say, of this Universe too... —She took another sip of her glass and savored her lips. She turned her gaze back to the book, nervously— from that Void where everything came from ... —She gasped finally.

He looked at the book then, serious and full of solemnity, understanding who she was talking about. He held his staff, steady and tense because of the severity of citing the Golden Lord.

The brilliance of the stained glass penetrated the enormous crimson gem that rested atop of his rod, wrapped in between branches of black wood. His dark straight hair was lit by the twilight's ruby light; The purple glow on it, same color as his eyes, enhanced even more the scathing look with which he followed again each movement of his Mistress, who dropped heavily on a velvet divan a few steps farther.

She crossed her legs looking at nothing, returning to taste the dark liquid in the glass. She returned her gaze to the young man and continued instructing him.

— The Mystic Light, a unique and unrepeatable spiritual force, irremediably connected with the Universe and each point of the Cosmos, with every gram of energy that exists, breathing or not. It is one of the many thoughts that the Golden Lord poured into the World —Her vassal gave a long sigh of discomfort— an irrepressible and dangerous power for anyone, no matter what it origin is, divine or demonic —Her voice seemed to tremble.

It was strange hearing his mistress's voice tremble. Usually, her voice was firm and vehement, and from time to time, sharp and sarcastic, but it never trembled.

He remembered then, the events that had taken place a few days ago in the Great Hall of Wolfpack Island, when one of his spies returned with a troubled face and almost on the verge of vanishing. " _Treason!_ " He recalled that the poor creature let out of his throat as he fell to his knees on the carpeted floor, and looking at Greater Beast Zelas with horrified eyes " _The Hellmaster and the Chaos Dragon betrayed us!_ ".

That was the first time he saw his mistress's face overshadowed like the stone of the fortress that was her abode; frozen and motionless she was standing on her throne.

Now, he could hear the tone of her voice slightly broken, and know exactly what that could only mean bad news and a conflict approaching: a serious one.

— This power, according to the Requiem, appears every 8000 years, and whoever possesses it, will have a part of that primordial Chaos that made the Universe as it is. This one, seems to be contained in one or several types of magical artifacts —Zelas explained, while she watched her vassal reopen the book marked with a red satin ribbon, exactly where she left it. He left his staff leaning lightly on the oak table and examined each sentence tracing a path with his gloved hands, gently turning each page of the millennial book— Stones of unique origin and divine light created from that chaotic power ... —She concluded meditatively.

— _The_ _Mystical Jewels_ ... —He murmured with soft voice, stopping the reading a few pages after the Requiem, examining every inch of them— They are amulets that provide the power of The Mystic Light. They point out, as the legitimate bearer of that power, whoever possesses them. They are marked with the Symbol of 8 Points, Symbol of Regeneration —He recited before the attentive look of Zelas— If these artifacts are found, their irrepressible power will mark the personification of The Mystic Light- —He stopped suddenly, looking up with seriousness towards his Mistress, understanding at last, the fear that had her in suspense— And they will break the Seal that contains it, giving way to its chaotic origin wherever it walks —.

A sepulchral silence invaded them. Zelas took another sip of the glass and muttered— Go on ... —.

He returned his sight to the book. — The Seal contains the immeasurable power, beyond the reach of anyone. Only The Mystic Jewels mark the way. —He stopped reading aloud for a few minutes, with his brows furrowed very slightly, he followed with his finger another brief poem in silence.

 _Wait under the stars,_

 _Above, the brightest and pure_

 _Down, the dull reflection._

 _The Seal will be broken._

 _The Miraculous Light will be revealed._

 _The Door will be opened._

Zelas got up and walked elegantly to the table, leaving aside her brandy and then resting her hands slowly on the dark wood. She looked at her vassal knowing what he had read.

— Don't you get it? The Mystic Light is not in this world, Xellos —She let out in a whisper, while her golden eyes kept him focused— For some reason, that only the Golden Lord knows, this uncontrollable power is beyond the reach of any creature in this world, even though He conceived such power. It's out there, lost in the Universe, or maybe in another. In some place, hidden and out of reach, for obvious reasons —.

— But they deciphered how to get there ... —Xellos concluded with gravity, watching as her Mistress nodded slightly.

She looked again at the book, and delicately, tapped with the tip of her finger where the poem was written with the certainty of having been struck down by a revelation.

— This is the key. _This is The Door_. The Mystic Jewels will mark the path through that door, to that foreign world where that power is —Zelas stood up without taking her eyes off him— We must know the exact place before the last Sun of the cycle of 8000 years. We must get to The Mystic Jewels before that traitors —she said bitterly.

— What do you want me to do once I find the source of that power, Mistress? —Xellos asked, aggravating his soft voice and taking his staff firmly— Should I destroy it? —.

Zelas retraced her steps to the divan, turning her back to her vassal— No —she said.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyes, still with her back to him, causing her curly hair slide down to her shoulders. Xellos waited patiently for the final order.

And then, Zelas, The Greater Beastmaster, turned to her general priest and ordered stoically.

— Find the Mystical Jewels at any costs, look for the Mystic Light and protect who is able to manifest such power; bring him to this world. The traitors who want to wield such power will be punished without hesitation —.

Xelloss bowed slightly and disappeared like a fleeting shadow.

Zelas, in silence and with the fierceness of her golden eyes, observed at length the book that her Priest left open. She knew the risk of bringing such power to this world, but time was pressing.

She preferred that that power be under her protection and in a place where she could always keep an eye on it, before letting it fall into wrong hands.

With a movement of her hand, a drawing of golden light with different types of symbols appeared over the oak table, it looked like a clock with strange characteristics: it marked the arrival of the last cycle to the Sun, marking the 8000 years.

She turned her attention to the poem.

The Sun and Moon were locked in a circle, and at the same time, an arrow marked a back and forth between them.

She frowned, and her face filled with concern.

— We have little time —she muttered to herself— _The Balance_ can be broken if we do not hurry —.


End file.
